ON A DEAD BABE
Reading edition
Fly away! thou heavenly one!— I do hail thee on thy flight! Sorrow? thou hath tasted none— Perfect joy is yourn by right. Fly away! and bear our love To thy kith and kin above! I can tetch thy finger-tips Ca'mly, and bresh back the hair From thy forr'ed with my lips, And not leave a teardrop thare.— Weep fer Tomps and Ruth—and me— But I can not weep fer thee.